


of meet cutes and grilled cheese

by gothyringwald



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cooking, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Talking, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: All Billy wants is to go to the supermarket, get some milk so he doesn’t have to eat his Rice Krispies dry, and get out. But when he runs into Steve Harrington he might end up with something he’s wanted a lot longer.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 51
Kudos: 285





	of meet cutes and grilled cheese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [socknonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/gifts).



> For socknonny - I really hope you like it! <3
> 
> Thanks SO MUCH to LazyBaker/granpappy-winchester for reading this over for me and making it better <3

Billy is on a mission. He needs milk because they’re out and he doesn’t want to eat his Rice Krispies dry. Only he hasn’t been to the supermarket since—

It’s fine. Get milk. Get out. Go home.

Except, as he rounds the corner from one aisle to another, he walks smack bang into someone else. The person’s basket falls from their hands, landing on the linoleum with a thwack that echoes down the aisle.

It rings in Billy’s ears, makes his heart beat hard. He balls his hands into fists. He’s not going to freak out, not now. But he growls out, ‘Watch where you’re fucking going,’ looking at the person’s feet.

‘Watch where _I’m_ going? You walked into me.’

And that voice— ‘Harrington.’ Billy looks up. There are a million reasons why seeing Steve should make him more on edge but, somehow, the tension that had started to coil in his gut is slowly unspooling.

‘Hargrove,’ Steve says on a huff. He’s flushed and he looks a little pissed off. It’s a good look on him. He runs a hand through his hair. He’s just looking at Billy and it sets something squirming in Billy’s gut.

Billy bends, ignoring the twinge in his side, and picks Steve’s basket up. Nothing’s broken. He stands again and hands it over.

There’s a moment where they’re both holding onto the basket, staring at each other by the fridge, and then there’s a tug on the handle. And another. And Billy realises he’s been holding onto it tight and finally lets go. Their thumbs brush and it sends a shock up Billy’s arm. He snatches his hand away.

Steve must notice because he frowns a little and Billy wonders what he’s thinking.

That Billy is a freak who can’t stand even the slightest touch. Because that’s not even it. It’s that it’s _Steve_. 

And, sure, maybe it’s taken him months to be able to go to the supermarket and that’s so fucking stupid. He can still walk around in the dark and the smell of chemicals doesn’t turn his stomach. But he hasn’t been to the supermarket and he can’t go past the pool and he hasn’t been in a car since his dad drove him home after he got out of the hospital.

But that’s because those things feel bad.

Touching Steve didn’t feel bad.

And that’s almost worse.

Steve runs a hand over the back of his neck. ‘I should, uh’—he holds the basket up—‘go pay for this.’ He takes one step away, then pauses. ‘I’ll see you ‘round?’

Billy nods and watches Steve walk away. 

They’ve spoken more in the weeks since… Since…

July gave way to August and August gave way to September, that nightmare summer finally over. Never mind that it lives on in Billy’s head.

But he and Steve, they’ve spoken more in those weeks than maybe they ever did. Billy’s not sure he’d call Steve a friend—watching Max and her little nerds after he got out of the hospital, he realised he doesn’t really have friends, not the way she does—but they’re _something_. Whatever they are, it’s better than it was. Billy’s pretty sure it’s better.

He doesn’t look for Steve at the checkout as he leaves the store—fuck the milk, he’ll eat the Rice Krispies dry—but he pauses outside, lights a cigarette, leans back against the wall by the door.

Nicotine buzzes in his veins, soothes him. 

Moments later Steve comes out, hugging a brown paper bag. He walks past Billy, then stops. Turns around. Those stupid pink lips of his curve into the smallest of smiles. A little pleased, a little sly. ‘Are you waiting for me?’

Billy’s heart leaps. ‘Now, why would I be waiting for you, Harrington?’

‘You tell me.’ The paper bag crinkles as Steve shrugs.

Billy could easily bluff his way out of this one but, fuck, he’s tired and Steve is the first person in weeks who hasn’t looked at Billy like he’s going to explode or break apart any moment. And maybe Billy feels like he’s always on the verge of shattering, but he’s sick of everyone else seeing it in him.

So he takes a drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he expels it, then says, ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I could eat.’

Billy licks his lips. He means to ask if Steve wants to grab a burger at the diner. It’s usually busy but that’s fine: being around a lot of people doesn’t bother Billy. It’s better than the alternative most of the time. But at the last moment he ends up saying, ‘How do you feel about grilled cheese?’

‘I feel pretty good about it.’

Billy huffs. ‘Well, I make a pretty mean grilled cheese, so, uh…’ Fuck. What is he doing?

‘Are you offering to cook for me?’

‘I might be.’

Steve looks at Billy a moment, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. They’re cute. Billy’s never noticed that before. Christ. But then Steve says, ‘Well, if you’re offering, I’m saying yes.’

‘Great,’ Billy says, pushing himself away from the wall. He takes a final drag of his cigarette and crushes it beneath his heel. ‘You can swing by mine after you drop your groceries off, if you want.’

‘They’ll keep,’ Steve says. He shifts the bag, it crinkles again. ‘I can follow you now.’

‘Follow me?’

‘In my car.’

Billy’s pulse ticks, but he manages to keep his voice level when he says, ‘I walked.’

‘You walked?’ Steve’s brows shoot up.

‘It’s a nice day.’

‘OK, well, I can give you a ride, then.’ Steve hefts his bag and turns, starts to walk away like he expects Billy to follow him.

After a beat, Billy does. He pauses at the passenger door of Steve’s BMW, though.

‘It’s unlocked.’ Steve’s voice is muted by the glass but it comes through clear enough.

Just get in the fucking car. Billy grabs the handle, throwing the door open, and settles himself in the passenger seat. His heart leaps and his stomach drops when the engine starts but...nothing bad happens.

It’s just a car.

It’s _just_ a car.

Billy focusses on Steve’s hands where they rest on the steering wheel and breathes out.

It’s getting dark by the time they pull onto Cherry Road, the sky a murky lilac behind grey clouds. All the windows in Billy’s house are black.

‘No one home?’ Steve asks, cutting the ignition.

‘Nope,’ Billy says. He wouldn’t have asked Steve over if anyone was here. Not to make him fucking _dinner_ , anyway. He gets out of the car, moves up the path to the porch, Steve’s footsteps following him.

There is a slight chill creeping into the evening air as they get deeper into September and it’s the only thing that Billy hates about that summer being over. 

He lets them inside, turning on the light, and can’t find it in himself to care that he hasn’t tidied up after himself all day. Beer cans and dirty dishes and his weights spread out all over the living room.

‘Where are your folks?’ Steve asks.

‘My dad and my _step_ mom took Max to see her grandma,’ Billy says, pressing play on his boombox, because he’s not going to have Steve in his house and not have some kind of noise going. He makes for the kitchen, turning lights on on the way. ‘The old battleaxe doesn’t like me, so I stayed here.’

‘Oh,’ Steve says. He’s standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Billy, and Billy can’t read his expression.

It unmoors him—Billy’s always been good at reading people, he’s had to be. But that he can’t read Steve Harrington is…frustrating, to say the least.

‘So, how about that grilled cheese?’ Steve says, after the silence stretches on just a little too long. ‘Or did you lure me here under false pretences?’ His lip ticks up.

‘False pretences, huh? You pick that up from one of your little nerd friends?’

‘Shut up,’ Steve says, ‘I know words.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Billy says, and with every quip he feels like he’s back on steadier ground. Coming back into himself.

Steve crosses his arms over his stomach. ‘Whatever, just…’ His mouth tilts into a crooked smile. ‘Make me a damn sandwich, already.’

And Billy can’t help himself, he barks out a laugh, because he’s never really seen this side of Steve before. He likes it. ‘You better watch yourself, or I might spit in it.’

Steve snorts, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just stands there watching as Billy grabs the bread and cheese and butter, starts to put the sandwiches together, music filtering in from the other room, filling the silence around them.

Billy doesn’t know why he asked Steve over. He’s been looking forward to spending the weekend alone all week, the house is so suffocating when everyone else is here, and then he went and asked Steve over to make him fucking food. It’s not something he does, not for the ‘friends’ he used to have, not for chicks. But apparently it’s something he does for Steve.

He shakes his head and slides the sandwiches onto two plates, then sets them on the table. ‘You gonna sit down, or what?’ he says, pulling out one of the chairs, and settling himself into it.

Steve pushes himself away from the door and sits opposite Billy. He takes up his grilled cheese and bites into it. ‘This is good,’ he says, around a mouthful of gooey cheese.

‘Told you,’ Billy says, trying to ignore the way the small appreciative noise Steve makes sends heat rushing up from his chest.

They settle into silence as they eat. Billy glances up every so often, catches Steve looking at him. He fights the urge to shuffle his chair around so he doesn’t have to look straight at Steve.

As Steve is licking the crumbs from his fingers he says, ‘You know, we could’ve been friends.’

Billy’s heart stutters. ‘Could have been?’ He shoves the last bite of his grilled cheese into his mouth. ‘So we can’t be now?’

‘No, I didn’t mean that.’ Steve sits back, chair creaking. ‘I meant at school. We could have been friends back then. I don’t know why we weren’t.’

The way he says it makes Billy wonder if it’s something that’s been on his mind for a while. Not rehearsed, but like he’s finally letting this escape him. 

Everything in Billy goes hot and cold at the same time. He keeps his tone careful when he says, ‘I never wanted to be your friend, Harrington.’

Hurt flickers on Steve’s face but it fades so quickly Billy almost thinks he imagined it. ‘So, what did you want to be?’ Steve leans forward. ‘My nemesis?’

‘Your nemesis?’ Billy laughs again. Can’t help himself. Fucking Steve Harrington. How does he do this? ‘Now _that_ you definitely picked up from one of those nerds. Probably the curly haired one.’

‘OK, I know you know his name is Dustin,’ Steve says. He licks his lips. ‘And you didn’t answer my question.’

Billy stares Steve down and, though there’s a table between them, it feels like they’re far, far too close. He can’t answer that question without letting too much go, so he shakes his head and pushes himself up. ‘I need a beer.’ He opens the fridge, doesn’t look over at Steve. ‘You want one?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Steve says on a sigh.

It twists in Billy’s gut, but he can’t explain why he didn’t want to be Steve’s friend without either lying, or half-lying, or telling Steve too much of the truth. The lie should come easily, they always have, but, right now, it’s stuck. And Billy isn’t sure he wants to spill the truth. It’s easier to say nothing.

He grabs two beers and shuts the fridge with his hip, then gestures for Steve to follow him into the living room. He sits on the couch and hands Steve a can of beer when he sits next to him.

The beer is cold but it doesn’t steady Billy the way it usually would. He keeps thinking about the first moment he’d seen Steve at school, how all that shit he’d tried to bury deep in himself had surged right back up and the only way he could bury it, and satisfy the itch to be _near_ Steve at the same time, was to be a Grade A jerk. 

Beside him, Steve fiddles with the ring on his beer can until it breaks off with a neat little _snick_. Steve sticks it on his pinky finger, drinks his beer. 

Billy can’t help but watch the way Steve’s throat works as he swallows, trace the path of the moles on his neck. Fuck. He drinks some more beer and turns the TV on.

The sound jars with the boombox and he leans across, stretching out so he can turn it off without getting up. When he leans back, he finds Steve is looking at him strangely.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Steve says, and sips his beer.

Billy grunts and turns to the TV.

In the middle of an AT&T commercial— _Reach out and touch someone_ —Steve says, ‘How come you never wanted to be my friend?’ He looks at Billy, those dark eyes shining. ‘Was it because of Tommy H?’

Billy’s heart beats hard. ‘What, can’t King Steve deal with the thought someone didn’t want to be his best buddy?’

‘Whatever man,’ Steve says, cutting his gaze away, ‘guess I don’t blame you.’

And that surprises Billy. Just about knocks the air right from his lungs. He figured Steve for the kind of guy who can never understand that there are people out there who don’t like you, and fuck those people, right? Shit happens. ‘It wasn’t Tommy,’ Billy says, eventually. He tips his head back. ‘You reminded me of everything I shouldn’t— Can’t want.’

Steve’s brow furrows and his face screws up. ‘Like…because I have money?’

Billy huffs. ‘It’s not your money, rich boy.’ 

‘Then what is it?’

Billy shakes his head. It’s not anything Steve _has_.

Steve looks up, expectant. Like he thinks Billy is going to elaborate. And, fuck it, maybe he will. It’s not like he has anything left to lose. He drains his beer but he can’t get the words out. He’s kept it inside for so long—even El digging around his memories didn’t get quite deep enough for _this_ —and it’s all stuck. Choking him.

But he’s always been a man of action, rather than words, when it counts. So he crushes his empty beer can in his fist and does the only thing he knows how: leans in and presses his lips to Steve’s.

They’re warm and…they’re not moving.

It’s stupid, the way Billy’s stomach sinks when Steve doesn’t react, when he pulls away slowly, blinking at Billy. Because it’s not like he was going to kiss Billy back.

At least he’s not calling Billy a—

‘Um.’ Steve pushes himself up a little, but he’s not moving away, doesn’t look pissed, and his voice is cautious when he says, ‘Are you fucking with me?’

It’s an easy out, and Billy could take it. But, fuck, he doesn’t want to. So he shakes his head, licks his lips, his heart doing its best to beat its way right out of him.

Steve sets his beer down and turns back to Billy. He looks at him a moment, then he leans in, cupping Billy’s jaw with one hand.

Electricity sparks beneath Steve’s palm, beneath the swipe of his thumb over Billy’s cheek. 

And then Steve kisses him and every nerve ending comes alight within Billy. It’s fucking ridiculous, because it’s just a kiss, but he’s wanted it for so long. He makes an embarrassing sound, fists his hand in Steve’s shirt and kisses back. Hot and slow and maybe too deep for a second kiss but he really doesn’t care.

Steve pulls away, colour high on his cheeks, eyes glassy. ‘I’m not fucking with you either by the way,’ he says, ‘in case you were wondering.’

‘Good to know,’ Billy says, breath coming fast.

Steve smiles and kisses Billy again and again until Billy’s lungs burn from holding his breath because it feels like even breathing might shatter this.

But he has to breathe so he pulls away, slowly, and licks his lips.

‘So this is why you didn’t want to be my friend?’ Steve’s hand is still on Billy’s jaw. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling this stupid _cute_ little smile. ‘Because you wanted to kiss me?’

‘That about sums it up.’

‘So you decided to be a dick to me, instead?’

Billy cuts his gaze away, turns from Steve.

‘Hey, you know what? Forget it,’ Steve says, and for a moment Billy thinks he might puke. But Steve is still talking, saying, ‘It doesn’t matter. High school was all bullshit, anyway.’

Billy’s stomach settles and he lets out a long breath. ‘Yeah, it was.’

The TV is chattering away but Billy doesn’t even know what station it’s on, can’t look away from Steve.

‘You know, of everyone, I never would have guessed…’ Steve trails off, shaking his head.

‘Me either,’ Billy says.

Steve ducks his gaze. ‘If you wanted to do this again, all of it, that would be cool.’ He presses his lips together. When Billy doesn’t say anything, Steve prompts, ‘Do you want to?’

Billy nods. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I do.’

Steve smiles—all cute fucking teeth and the hint of dimples—and when he tugs on Billy’s hand to pull him close again, Billy goes willingly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
